


Words for Glory

by Iboughtacactus



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Airplanes, Dream's POV, Dreams, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Music Video: Glory (Bastille), Nightmares, No Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Slow Burn, Song: Glory (Bastille), Songfic, Wayne's World References, airplanes are kind of important though, but that's later on in the story, but there will be a road trip, dream always disagrees with george, george hasn't seen dream's face yet, it's a good song, mostly - Freeform, sapnap is tired of it, sometimes it's george's pov, this is not about Dream's song, you should listen to it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29406729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iboughtacactus/pseuds/Iboughtacactus
Summary: "You tell it differently every time.""Well, I like my versions better."Some people want the whole world to remember them. They want a statue in their honor; they want their name tattooed in everyone's brain. Their picture must be in the Hall of Fame, or else what was the point of living?Others, however, are perfectly content with living on in the mind of only one person.(Or, after countless nightmares, D needs to make sure that G is okay.)Inspired by “Glory” by Bastille.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I suggest listening to the song Glory by Bastille for, because the lyrics and music video were big influences on this. It'll also give you a picture of what the rest of the fic will be like.   
> This is not on any other sites, so if you see it somewhere else, it's not me who put it there. Please don't upload this to other sites :)  
> I hope you like it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long stream with George and Sapnap, Dream goes to sleep.

“That’s not how I remembered it!”

Dream wheezes and looks over at his second monitor, where he has George’s stream pulled up. “How is that not what you remember?”

“Because my memory is better than yours. Guys,” George looks at his webcam, and Dream can see the annoyance in his eyes as he says, "the first time I ever talked to Dream was when he messaged me for help on coding a server. He needed me." Dream scoffed at that bit. "And when I messaged him back, he didn't respond."

“You left him on delivered?” Sapnap’s avatar crouches in front of Dream’s, blocking his view of the smp. “Why would you do that, Dream?”

“I didn’t leave him on delivered.”

“Read? That’s even worse!”

“No! Can I please say my side of the story now?” Dream walks away from Sapnap and builds himself a pillar out of cobblestone to stand on. “It’s my turn to speak.”

“Sure Dream, go ahead and lie,” George says, but he moves his character to stand in front of Dream’s pillar anyways. Dream grins. Actions speak louder than words, after all.

Clearing his throat, Dream begins: “So, as I was saying before, George _begged_ me to let him help me code. I didn’t need help, by the way; I was perfectly fine. So, I didn’t answer him. I think that’s where you’re getting confused, George.”

“That’s actually not what happened!”

In reality, George is the one telling the truth. Dream was only disagreeing with him for the sake of disagreeing. And to watch how George reacts on stream — his eyebrows furrow, his face goes slightly red, and he pouts.

Annoyance has an interesting effect on George.

It’s something that Dream realized a long time ago, but chooses to ignore. Because if he thinks about it too much, he’ll start to think about other words to describe how annoyance looks on George other than "interesting." So, the only reason he goes out of his way to annoy George is because it’s funny, not because his cheeks look rosy, and not because the way his bottom lip sticks out is very endearing (that's another word that Dream could use, but he'll just stick with "interesting" for now).

“Who built this?”

Dream tears his eyes away from George's stream and moves his mouse around, trying to locate what Sapnap was talking about. Sapnap is crouching in front of a four block tall pillar of netherrack that someone had built beside the wooden plank walkway. They had lit the ground surrounding the pillar on fire. The flames may have been meant to make the pillar look threatening, but because it was just orange and white pixels, the effect didn’t really work. Closer, Dream notices an oak sign that was placed on the pillar. It reads _demolish the government_ in black ink.

"Techno, probably," George chimes in, voice ringing through Dream's headset. 

"Maybe we should get rid of it," Sapnap says.

"Leave it. It's not like it's hurting anyone." Dream says. Maybe the pillar was supposed to be an important part in advancing the plot of the smp. He hadn't been paying attention to the other members' streams and the "canon" things that were happening recently, even though he is supposed to be a big part of it.

George claps his hands together, effectively breaking Dream from his train of thought. "Alright then. That seems like a good place to end the stream."

"What? But you only just started streaming!" Dream exclaims.

"It's literally been three hours," George responds.

"Oh." Dream glances at the time in the bottom right corner of his monitor, seeing that it read 2:34 in the morning. Only then does he realize how tired he is. "I guess time flies when you're having fun."

"Yeah, that argument about how you two first met was really fun for me. I had a great time watching you two fight like an old married couple," Sapnap interjected. 

Dream twists the wire of his headset around his fingers, realizing how sweaty his hand was from the way his fingers could barely grip around the plastic that encased the thin thread of metal. He was 99 percent sure that Sapnap was just joking, but the other one percent entertained the thought that he wasn't. The people watching George's stream couldn't tell what the slightest fluctuations of Sapnap's voice meant — they probably couldn't even notice them — but Dream could. And he should be positive of whatever Sapnap means when he speaks. But still, the one percent danced around in his mind, taunting him and making him think that maybe Sapnap was suggesting something.

"Say bye, Dream."

George waves animatedly with both hands like he always does at the end of his streams. That wave always makes Dream want to wave back, even though he knows that no one would see him. 

"Bye, guys."

His screen turns grey, telling him that the stream he was watching had ended. Even after the stream ends, he can still see the chat's goodbyes loading in. He watches the messages rush across his screen, only being able to catch a word or two in every few messages before they disappear.

"Well, that was fun," Sapnap drawls. Dream imagines that he's slouched in his chair, probably just as tired as Dream is.

"Yeah, it was alright. I think Dream arguing with me at the end killed the mood, though," George says.

"Oh, come on. You loved it," Dream responds. He runs a hand over his face, trying to ward away the tiredness. He would much rather stay on this call than go to sleep.

"I don't know about you guys, but I am actually trying to have a normal sleep schedule. So I'm going to bed," Sapnap says. A loud yawn escapes his mouth after he finishes speaking that sounds staticky over the Discord call.

"Do you call half past one in the morning a normal time to be awake?" George queries.

"One isn't that bad. And besides, George, don't you go to bed at eight in the morning?" 

"Okay, fine. Go then." 

"Goodnight, Sapnap," Dream says.

Sapnap disconnects from the call after that, leaving Dream to wonder whether the silence he left them in is comfortable or not. Before he can decide, George breaks it with, "Why do you always say that stuff while we stream?"

"Be more specific," Dream answers. He cringes at how forceful it sounded.

"You always tell things differently than I do, even though you and I both know that I'm the one telling the truth."

"You're not _always_ the one who's right. God, you have such a big head." 

George huffs, but his voice is cheerful when he says, "I'm not the one with the big head, that's you. The whole world can back me up on that." Dream rolls his eyes, despite the fact that it's true, and everyone who watches their streams would back George up on that. "And you know what I mean. It's always when I'm telling a story, and you say something that's completely untrue."

"You always pause and repeat yourself when you start telling a story. Maybe I'm just trying to help," Dream says.

"How is that helpful?"

"I don't know. To make it more interesting and less of you trying to remember what part of the story you were on." Dream decides to add on something closer to the truth: "Maybe I just like to annoy you."

"If that's true then it's working. But I—" George is cut off by a yawn. Dream is about to ask him if he's tired, but he realizes during George's long pause that followed that he was the one who yawned. "Are you getting tired of my talking, then?" George quips.

"I guess I am. That, or it's late and I need to sleep." Dream says reluctantly. As much as he would like to stay on the call for the rest of the night with George, his words are beginning to slur together, and his movements are growing increasingly lethargic.

"Okay. Goodnight, Dream." Once Dream has said goodnight back, George is the first one to leave the call. Dream contemplates staying in the VC to see if anyone will join and engage him in another conversation, but he thinks better of it and presses the phone shaped icon to leave the call.

He neglects brushing his teeth and changing into something clean for going straight to bed. He clicks off the light in his room and makes his way blindly to the edge of his bed. Underestimating the distance, he thumps his knees against his bed frame a few steps later than he thought he would. Even though he's been living in his own house for a while now, he still isn't used to every room being substantially larger than the ones in his childhood home. The extra space, something that he used to crave when he was younger, is now nearly too much for him to handle while he lives on his own.

After he finally finds a comfortable position in bed, he drifts off, thinking of how he wishes he wasn't the only one in his house that's too big for one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are much appreciated :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream finds himself driving across a deserted stretch of road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day :) And if you don't have anyone, it's okay. Valentine's Day is a corporate scheme anyway.
> 
> *Please don't upload this work to other sites*

When Dream opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is his hands resting on a steering wheel. It takes him a few seconds to process that he is in a car. With a jolt, Dream sits up in his chair, hands tightening around the wheel. Did he fall asleep while he was driving? 

His gaze drifts to the right, and to his surprise, George is sitting right next to him in the passenger seat. George has a light smile, and he looks more content than he ever looked through his webcam on Dream’s monitor. Dream can’t help but stare at his relaxed face, his side profile, the way his hair seems a shade lighter in the sun that peaked out from behind a cloud—

Suddenly, George's eyes are on him, his smile widening when he sees that Dream is staring. Dream snaps his head forward. _ I need to focus on the road _ , he thinks. 

Other than them, the road is void of any cars. It stretches far ahead, until it seems to abruptly stop and erupt upwards into mountains, which were far away and looked barely distinguishable against the pale sky. Dream loves that about mountain ranges, how the atmosphere makes them look blue the further away they are.

The road seems familiar, but at the same time Dream thinks they could be anywhere in the world. Anywhere you go, whether it's Arizona or Italy, this place could be nestled in a place that no tourists would find interesting enough to go. Yet somehow, here they are.

“I'm having a good time.”

Dream glances over at George to see that he is already looking at him. He wants to ask how they got there, how long this road is, where they are going… but he feels like his lips are super glued together, and the words build up in his throat and die off.

_ You're the one driving, shouldn't you know?  _ he thinks.

A few minutes pass in complete silence, with only the sound of the car's engine to keep Dream from going insane. He's completely forgotten about watching the road, instead intent on studying each of George's features.

And because of that, he doesn't miss his friend’s whispered, “Thank you.”

Despite being caught off guard, wondering what he could have done to deserve such a sincere couple of words, Dream responds with, “You’re welcome.” 

George’s cheeks become dusted over with a light pink, and he looks down at his lap. It’s the first time Dream has ever seen him so flustered without it being paired with annoyance. 

He begins to grow comfortable in the silence. This drive seems to be just a normal road trip. There is no point in wondering what had led to this moment, just the two of them driving on an endless, sun bathed road, and there is no way of telling what would happen next. 

“I don’t want you to miss me too much, okay?”

Dream tenses up. What does he mean? Why would he miss him? He tries to ask these questions, but like before, he can’t speak. It’s like he’s reading from a script, and the only words he says are, “you’re welcome.” In this script, he’s a background character. 

Suddenly, a new sound overthrows the car engine, rising out of the blue until Dream can’t hear the rumbling of the road anymore. It is a crackling sound, like the fires people light during the winter. And when Dream snaps his head forward to the road, he finds that he is almost right.

But instead of a controlled fire in a cozy home, it is a raging inferno.

The fire glows orange and indigo, and billows of smoke intoxicate the air. It stretches across the road, creating an extremely effective wall. Dream can barely make out the remains of a burning car in the center of it, flames licking at its metal exterior. The car’s paint (which he thought might be red, but it was hard to be sure with the brilliance of the fire surrounding it) seems to melt and drip onto the road due to the intense heat. 

They get closer and closer to the flames. Panic overtakes Dream’s thoughts, and he slams his foot down. But where there should have been a brake, there is nothing, and Dream’s foot lands on the floorboard. The only way to save them would be to swerve out of the way. So, he begins doing just that, gripping the wheel and bracing himself for the whiplash that he might get.

But just as he is about to jerk the wheel to the right, a firm grip appears on top of his hands, and he can't move them. He looks to his right and sees George's outstretched arm and his small smile, lips barely upturned and with the slightest gap between the top and bottom lip, that doesn't align with the emotion swirling around like a tornado in his eyes.

His eyes are like layers in a painting. The more Dream studies them, the more emotions he finds. Sadness, guilt, unsure, even happiness. Seeing that George is happy in this situation, and the fact that he is somehow happy and unhappy at the same time, puzzles him — and slightly concerns him — almost as much as George's hand stopping his from turning the wheel. The happiness hides beneath the other emotions, but once it is found, it becomes obvious like a shiny gem in the dirt. 

Dream tries to shove George’s hands away, but George is stronger than he looks, and his steel grip doesn't budge. That doesn't make any sense, because his smaller hand looked relaxed, like it is merely resting on top of Dream’s, which turn white from gripping the wheel, blue veins prominent on the pale skin. Maybe it is some kind of message, like George is telling him to relax, even with their car edging closer and closer to the fire, the heat inside the car rising rapidly, and the smell of burning methane increasing.

So, he relaxes.

George nods. Then, he closes his eyes and sits back in his chair, still keeping his hand firmly on top of Dream’s. His skin is illuminated by the fire, giving him a sinister look. Dream hesitates, conflicted between following his lead or trying to steer them away again. It seems stupid that he would consider the former option when there was still a chance of bringing them to safety, but George seems so adamant in doing nothing that Dream almost feels the same way. 

He leans back into his seat, watching as his chance of saving them slips away. Once they are only a few meters away from the fire and Dream is aware of the fact that there is no saving them, he allows himself to close his eyes. 

Even from through his eyelids, he can still see the colorful shine of the fire. He imagines that it is a light show, like the ones he used to go to as a kid. Back then, the flashing lights were startling, but they were nothing compared to an uncontrollable wildfire. The memories of the light spectacles console him, bringing him back to a time that was simpler than the situation he finds himself in now. 

Time seems to slow, giving Dream time to wonder whether the fire or the crash against the red car would kill him. He lets George take his hand off of the wheel, lacing their fingers together and resting them on the center console. The heat rises to unbearable levels, searing his skin and getting hotter and hotter—

Just as they are engulfed in the flames, the heat drops to room temperature, and the lights against Dream’s eyelids disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out shorter than I hoped it would, but the next chapter will hopefully be out soon! It's going to be in George's POV, but it will switch to Dream's POV at the end.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George gets a worrisome call from Dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Please don't upload this work to other sites*

A shrill ringing goes off, waking George from his slumber. He checks the time: it’s nearly 9:00 in the morning. “It’s only been an hour,” George mumbles to himself. He swings his legs over his mattress and reaches for his phone that is emitting a sliver of light on his nightstand. 

The sudden gush of blue light blinds him momentarily. Once he adjusts his eyes, he sees that Dream is calling him. A wave of worry washes over him. Why would Dream call him when they had only stopped talking an hour ago? George hurriedly presses the answer button, clearing his throat so it didn’t sound like he had just woken up. “Dream? What’s wrong?”

“Are you okay?” Dream asks immediately. Even with his brain clouded with drowsiness, George can hear the definite shake in his voice.

"I'm fine. We just spoke an hour ago, and I was fine then." George says. He shifts so that his feet touch the ground, feeling the cold from the hardwood floors of his room seep into his skin. The sudden loss of heat wakes him up a bit more.

The phone picks up a sigh that George guesses is in relief. "Good," Dream says. "That's good."

"Are _you_ okay?" George asks. The conversation is drifting away from where it needs to be; George needs to figure out what caused Dream to call him in the first place. 

The line goes silent too long for comfort until Dream finally answers with, "Yeah, I'm okay. It's all good. Sorry for bothering you, goodnight."

"Wait, why did you—"

Before George can finish, a beep signals the end of the call. 

He tries to call Dream back, but the phone rings for what feels like hours before turning into a robotic voice telling him to leave a voice message at the beep.

Groaning, George throws himself sideways onto his bed. He isn't sure, but Dream wouldn't call him while he knows he is sleeping. Whatever the reason that Dream felt the need to wake him up, it had to be important.

So why didn't he just spit it out?

Tufts of hair fall in front of his face as gravity gets the best of them. He desperately needs a haircut, but hasn't bothered to book an appointment or figure out how to do it himself. And besides, his chat told him it looked good when he asked one day, so as annoying as it could be sometimes, it would stay. His arm begins to ache from being wedged in between the mattress and his body, but he is too tired, and his thoughts are too preoccupied, to move into a different position.

The thing that motivates him to finally sit up is the idea of calling someone else who might know what Dream meant by his late night call. 

After three rings, the person George has in mind picks up.

"George? What do you want?"

"Sapnap?"

"What did I say about a normal sleep schedule?" Sapnap grumbles. 

"Sapnap, have you spoken to Dream recently?" George feels more alert now, more ready to work everything out. Enough so that he stands up to pace his room.

Sapnap mutters something about how no one ever says hello anymore. "The last time I spoke to Dream was an hour ago, when we were streaming. You were there, right?"

"I was. But he didn't just call you or anything?"

"No. Dream knows not to disturb my beauty sleep, unlike some people. I was sleeping peacefully before you decided to bother me with this." 

George groans for what seems like the hundredth time in the past hour. He would never get anywhere with Sapnap at this rate. No helpful advice, no words of encouragement. The only thing he would walk away with is the knowledge that Dream called him, and only him.

He couldn't live with just that. "I guess Dream doesn't know not to disturb my sleep, then. Listen, he called me a few minutes ago to ask me if I was okay. He sounded really upset, too, like he thought something happened to me. But, like you said, we just finished streaming an hour ago; I told him as much." George waits for Sapnap's response to his dilemma, but it never comes. _"Well?"_

Something slams on the other end of the line— George assumes it's Sapnap's fist to his night stand. "What do you want me to say, George? First you wake me up, then you tell me about the call you had with Dream, and for what? Consolation?" 

Startled, George halts his pacing. He knows that Sapnap isn't really that mad at him, or at least he will be over it in a few hours, but the yelling is still jarring. "I just want to make sure he's okay. That's all."

The tension in the phone call disappears. George can imagine Sapnap's face softening from its angry lines as he says, "I'm sure he'll be fine. It was just a phone call, and I'm sure that if he really needed help, he would tell us."

"I guess you're right." George walks back over to his bed, nearly tripping on his blanket that he must have knocked to the ground when he stood up. 

"Of course I am. Now, to pay me back for waking me up, you can say goodnight to me. You didn't earlier." 

But George barely registers what Sapnap says. "Sure. Will you tell me if he contacts you?"

"I can't even get a 'goodnight' around here! But yes, I'll tell you if Dream calls me or anything. Don't worry about it. Goodnight, George." Before George can say anything back, Sapnap hangs up on him.

George's heart rate— which he hadn't even noticed was racing before— slows down as the effects of Sapnap's unbothered stance in the situation hit him. Placing his phone back on his nightstand (he should really find a better place to put it; it would be too easy to reach it from his bed and neglect sleep), he picks his blanket up from the floor and settles back into bed. He would only be able to sleep for a couple more hours at this point so that he doesn't wake up at five in the afternoon. He, Dream, and Sapnap had tried to sync their sleeping schedules as much as possible, but with George being five and six hours ahead of them, waking up at the same time as them would mean waking up after lunch, which seems a bit socially unacceptable.

The phone call was, after all, just a phone call. George had made a federal case out of it, and he probably didn't need to risk his life by waking Sapnap to make sure of it. 

* * *

Once Dream has ended the call with George, he immediately silences his phone and tosses it out of reach. He draws his knees to his chest and rocks back and forth on the edge of his bed. 

All he needed was the reassurance that George was okay, and now that he has it, he doesn't want to talk about whether he's okay or not.

Of course, he knows that the images of the burning fire, the feeling of rising heat and George's hand on his, and the smell of smoke were all just a part of his nightmare, but the way every detail is so vivid and still feels so fresh in his mind makes him doubt. Maybe he had somehow survived the crash and burn and had ended up back in his home, but George had not survived, or he had at least come out less unscathed than Dream did. The fact that there was no way Dream would have ended up as unhurt as he finds himself doesn't cross his mind.

Dream is someone who isn't a stranger to weird dreams and nightmares. He once dreamt that he was at the ice rink he used to go to as a kid— a place that younger him couldn't grasp the concept of, since Florida was always so hot, but the ice rink was so cold even on the warmest summer days— and the synthetic ice cracked under him, causing him to fall into water that was infinitely deep. His ice skates made it so he couldn't swim back up, and he went further and further down until he woke up in clothes drenched with sweat. Usually he just brushes the dreams away, and they all jumble up and store in the back of his mind.

This dream was different, though. Dream's dreams rarely ever include people that he knows, and when they do, his dream self never thinks about them in the way he thought about George. He doesn't usually acknowledge the way the people in his dreams look or sound. None of his dreams ever made him react by calling someone or doubting whether the dream was fake or not until now.

And after any other nightmare, no matter how scared it made him, he could fall back asleep easily. Tonight, however, Dream lies awake in bed for forever until he falls into an uneasy sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! The next chapter will hopefully be out before the end of the week.  
> Have a great day :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream calls George again, but this time they talk for hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to finish this chapter sooner, but my power is out and I have been having difficulties. But here it is!  
> *Please don't upload this work to another site*

Something soft rubbing against his jaw wakes Dream up. He opens his eyes, and the first thing he sees is the dark, reddish fur of his cat's head. Patches mewls softly, repeatedly headbutting his cheek.

"What's wrong?" Dream grumbles. Patches steps over his stomach to the empty space on the left side of his bed and lies on her back. Dream stares at her stomach, and he realizes what the problem is.

Dream looks at the clock on his bedside table, and he realizes that it's just past two in the afternoon. "I haven't fed you yet," he whispers. He untangles his legs from his bedsheets and makes his way to the kitchen.

The kitchen in his house is, thankfully, the one room that isn't any larger than the one in his childhood home. It's not like he cooks very often, anyways; most of his meals are take outs, something that he microwaves, or something that's easy to make on the stovetop.

There is a whole cabinet dedicated to Patches' food. Dream doesn't need the space for anything else, and when he first realized that, he decided to buy as much food as he could fit so he wouldn't have to buy more as often.

Now, the store of cat food is nearly at its end, with what Dream supposes is one more week left of food left. He would have to refill it soon; that will be the tenth time he does so. The food left is nearly a month old now, and Dream has never checked to see if this type of food goes stale in that time. He hopes not. But Patches hasn't complained yet, so he thinks it might be alright.

He feels a paw tapping his leg and claws curling into the thin fabric of his pajama pants. "I'm making your food now, can you please be patient?" Dream bends down to help Patches unhook her claws. Instead of thanking him like Dream sometimes wishes she could, she walks away to the other side of the kitchen and leaps onto the messy island table.

The food is simple enough to make; take the food out of the food out of the container, put it in Patches' bowl, and run it under water. Sometimes Dream wonders if it's too simple, and if Patches wishes for higher delicacies. Nevertheless, she eats it without complaint, even when Dream isn't sure if it's stale or not.

Once he has finished making the food, he lays the bowl on the ground and watches as Patches eagerly stalks towards it. Deciding that even cats might not appreciate being watched while they eat, Dream fills her water bowl and leaves.

Once he is back in his room, he braces himself and looks at the notifications on his phone. George had called him once, just after he had hung up on him. A part of Dream pangs at the thought of George not calling him multiple times to make sure he was okay. Maybe he didn't care that much? Or, maybe he thought Dream was just calling him one hour after they streamed for fun. It sounds like something Dream would do, except he wouldn't, and last night was the only time he had— but it wasn't for fun. He would only call George when he knew he was asleep if it was important, and Dream isn't sure why George didn't worry more than he seemed to.

Dream feels like a horrible person for expecting multiple miscalls from George, for expecting George to be the definition of insane, but that is what he expects.

Then, he looks at the rest of his notifications and sees a text from Sapnap. He clicks on it, and it reads George _called me, he's worried about you now. I think I calmed him down, but maybe give him another call._

He physically and mentally slaps himself after he finishes reading. Of _course_ George cares about him, but he isn't the definition of insane. He wouldn't call Dream over and over again, because he knows that if Dream doesn't answer the first time, he won't answer any of the others.

Figuring that George would be awake now, since it's nearly 8:00 p.m. in England, Dream finds George's contact and presses the call button. He barely hears two rings before they are replaced with George's steady breathing.

"Hello?" Dream says.

"Hey," George answers. The word comes out breathy, as if George is trying to hide relief.

The line goes quiet for a moment, and Dream wonders whether George hung up on him before he hears, "You scared me."

A whole bookshelf could fall in his room, but Dream wouldn't notice. Guilt swallows him whole at the hurt lacing George's voice, and all he can think of is how he hates hearing it that way.

"I'm sorry." Dream sighs, wishing he could come up with something better than that. "I didn't mean to worry you." Still not good enough.

"What happened?"

"I... I don't want to talk about it. But I'm okay now. Just forget it happened, okay?"

"Okay?" George doesn't sound convinced, but thankfully, he doesn't try to push it.

"Are you streaming today?" Dream asks.

"Um, no. Not today. I was just going to... Well, I was just going to do nothing."

"Then, can you stay?" Dream doesn't know if this is too much to ask, but he feels like he needs this. Sure, George is okay, and he didn't die in in a fire, but Dream can't stop thinking about it. He remembers reading an article about how dreams reflect on the thoughts of a person, and that some dreams tell of a future event. Falling dreams mean loss of control in life, dreams about being chased mean you're avoiding an issue, et cetera et cetera.

Maybe something bad is going to happen to George, whether it's crashing into a burning car or not.

"Sure," George says.

It's awkward at first, but soon they talk freely about anything, from past streams— Dream deliberately messes up the details of the memories, laughing as George angrily tells him to stop— to weird jokes Dream remembered from when he had searched them up for no reason. For that moment when Dream is talking to his best friend, he forgets all about the burning red car and how he could have saved them, but he didn't.

The conversation slowly shifts to memories that the other hadn't been a part of. "Did I ever tell you about that time I picked up a couple of hitchhikers and drove them to Georgia?" Dream begins.

George responds with an exasperated groan, and Dream grins. "You have, many times. But you change up the details every time."

"How do I do that?"

"Once you said they were a couple of stoners, and another time you called them two acrobats. And the last time you told this story, you said that you drove them to Alabama. I'm beginning to think that the story isn't even true, because no one forgets that many details when they tell a story as often as you do."

Dream chuckles. He knows that he's told the story many times, and he knows that he always changes something about it. "So, the story is that I drove two people who I didn't know a long way. And besides, telling a story the same way every time is boring." He pauses, his grin getting wider at his realization, "And you've never told me to stop!"

"Because I want to know what the next thing you change about the story is."

A _nd you like listening to me talk._ Dream nearly says it, but he thinks it might be too much. If they were streaming, then he would have said it, but this was just them talking in private, and everything means a little more when no one else is listening. Instead, he settles for, "It's a good way to tell a story, then."

"If you don't have any other stories to tell, then sure." George says.

"I have plenty of stories!" Dream gasps, feigning offense.

He happens to glance at the time, and he sees that it's already 7:00 p.m. "We've been talking for four hours."

"Oh." George sounds as shocked as Dream feels. "I didn't think it's been that long."

They hang up soon after that. Dream falls back onto his bed and smiles. He hadn't spoken to someone like that for so long in a while, and he had forgotten what it felt like.

A meow from his door startles him out of his bliss. Patches looks at him expectantly. "Right, I guess it is that time again."

As Dream makes Patches some more food, he allows himself to think about the dream again. It's still a daunting thing to think about, but thinking about George's voice, happy and safe, makes it less like a memory and more like what it really is: just a dream.

Even so, Dream worries that the effect might wear off. He thinks it might be a good idea to call George more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! The next chapter will be out ASAP.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to comment or leave kudos, I'd appreciate it tons. I've already got chapter 2 written, so it will be out very soon (probably tomorrow). Stay tuned!


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